


fever

by stannide



Category: Naruto
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-18
Updated: 2014-12-18
Packaged: 2018-03-02 01:22:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2794613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stannide/pseuds/stannide
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sarada falls ill while Sakura is out on a mission.  Sasuke turns to the one person he can ask for help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	fever

Sasuke dips a washcloth into the basin of cool water. He wrings it out as best as he can with one hand before approaching the crib. The fever flushes red under his daughter’s pale skin. He has to steady himself at the sight of her, tiny and unwell. She has never been sick before.

Not for the first time, Sasuke wishes Sakura were here.

He curls his fist inward in an attempt to test the temperature of the washcloth against his wrist. It doesn’t seem like it would be too cold for Sarada. Bending over the crib, he lays the cloth over her forehead. Sarada squirms in protest, making her displeasure known with a high-pitched wail. He takes the washcloth off her skin immediately. She doesn’t stop crying.

Sasuke drapes the washcloth over the edge of the crib before bending down to cradle Sarada in his arm, careful to support her head with the crook of his elbow. His thumb rubs soothing circles into her skin as he paces the nursery. She is hot to the touch. Fear mounts in his chest. He wills himself not to tremble.

His efforts seem to placate her. She stops crying after the first few turns about the room. But she is restless in his arms. The fever bothers her still. Her thumb finds her mouth.

"Are you hungry?"

One-armed, Sasuke cannot feed her and hold her at the same time.  He returns her to her crib before reaching for the bottle on top of the dresser. But Sarada rejects the bottle as he brings it closer. When he tries again, she slaps it away with a mulishness that reminds Sasuke of her mother. After a moment, the fight seems to go out of her. She closes her eyes. Her breathing is heavier than usual.

He returns the bottle to its place on the dresser, takes one calming breath, two. This is not a battle he knows how to strategize for. There is no way he can fight Sarada’s ills for her. Such is best left in the hands of Sakura. He imagines easily how his wife would wave a glowing hand over the soft tuft of hair at the peak of Sarada’s head. And, just like that, the pain would be gone.  It is something Sakura is good at, he decides.  Taking away pain.

Sasuke exhales.  It is late, but there is no way he can go to bed knowing that his daughter is ill. Down to his last, desperate straw, Sasuke walks to the window. Within minutes, he has summoned a hawk. It takes him several more to find the words to put to paper. For Sarada’s sake, he works quickly. Once he has finished, he attaches the missive to the hawk’s feet. The hawk flies out into the evening sky.

All that remains is to wait. It is another area in which his wife excels and he does not. He shuffles back to his spot by the crib, tracing Sarada’s cheeks with his finger. Normally, she would grab onto his finger, already a young kunoichi attempting to wrestle her opponent into submission. Now, she seems too weak to do even that. His touch lingers over her chest, as though palpating for her heartbeat, as though to let the tiny sound assure him that all is well, or will be.

A harsh noise interrupts the quiet.

Sasuke straightens at once, positioning himself defensively in front of the crib. He waits for the source of the sound to make itself known. But the sound persists without any revelations. On edge, Sasuke ventures out of the nursery, into the hallway. It takes him a moment to locate the source of the sound. Another to realise what it is.

With the hesitation of unfamiliarity, Sasuke picks up the telephone and puts the receiver to his ear.

"Sasuke?" comes a woman’s sleepy voice. "You realise you have a telephone, don’t you? You didn’t have to send a summon."

"I… apologise," he says.  It is a recent technology.  He’d forgotten that Sakura had had it installed the month prior. "I’m not yet used to it."

"It took my husband a while as well," the woman chuckles. "Your message seemed urgent."

"I was hoping you might be able to help me."

He hears the cluck of her tongue. “You’re helpless without Sakura, aren’t you?”

Sasuke is grateful she cannot see his blush. “Aa.”

"How can I help?"

"Sarada has a fever."

He can hear the movement of sheets as the woman shifts in bed. “Sa-chan? How long?”

"This afternoon." Shame colours his voice.  He should have been able to help his daughter by now, or, failing that, he ought to have sought help sooner.  He waits for the woman’s reprobation.

It doesn’t come. “And this is her first time?”

"It is."

"Well, first off," the woman says. "Don’t worry. It happens. It’s very unlikely that it’s anything serious. What have you done so far?"

"I tried to cool her off with washcloths."

"Cold?"

"Yes."

"You should give her a bath. Lukewarm, not cold. It’ll make her feel better, since the temperature difference won’t be so drastic for her as cold water."

"I…"

She seems to sense his discomfort. “It’s okay to make mistakes, Sasuke. That’s why I’m here.  Have you gotten her to drink?”

"She won’t take anything."

"Try again after the bath. She’ll be more relaxed then. It’s important to keep her hydrated.”

"I’ll do that."

His voice is still tense. The woman sighs. “Relax for me, all right? Sa-chan will be fine. And Sakura will be back soon, won’t she?”

"In two days."

"That’s good. If it’s anything like Sakura’s first fever, it should break by tomorrow. If it doesn’t, at least Sakura will be home shortly to take a look at it."

He soaks this in, and considers how his situation has changed since he picked up the phone. The new agenda, compounded with the assurance of a contingency plan (the surety of Sakura’s impending presence), calms Sasuke immensely. He is no longer groping in the dark. There is something he can do for his daughter.

"Understood." He pauses. "Thank you."

"Anytime, Sasuke," she says, laughing. "Just don’t break my granddaughter."

He has to smirk at that. “I won’t, Mebuki-san.”

"You know…" Mebuki’s voice trails off, unsure. "You know, Sasuke, ‘okaasan’ is fine."

Sasuke doesn’t speak. He doesn’t know what to say to that. The term alone is enough to bring him back to years ago, to gentle hands and dark hair. Had she ever taken care of him during a fever spell? He could scarcely recall. He wonders what she would have done in this scenario. How it would have been like if he had the option to call her and ask for her assistance. She would have loved Sarada, he thinks, as he often does when he remembers her. She would have loved Sakura as well.

"Sasuke?" Mebuki’s voice breaks him out of his wondering. "I’m sorry. I must have overstepped."

"No," he says. He shakes his head, although Mebuki cannot see it. "No, it’s fine." He hesitates. "Good night, okaasan."

Her voice is softer than he has ever heard it.  Perhaps his mother-in-law is smiling.  

"Good night, Sasuke-kun."

He hears the click as she hangs up.  He stays on the phone for a long while, listening to the pulse of the dial tone.

When he is ready, Sasuke returns to the nursery.  Sarada gurgles at him when he takes her again into his embrace. Her skin is still too hot for his liking, but her renewed spirit eases the weight in his chest.

"Your grandmother came to the rescue," he says. "You’re very lucky."

She doesn’t understand what he is saying, choosing to play with his hair by way of response. Sasuke allows himself a small moment of laughter. “Let’s get you into the bath,” he says, carrying her into the hallway. “There’s someone I’d like to tell you about.”


End file.
